Friggason
by Fallyn Irlandes
Summary: Loki, still in prison after the failed Chitauri invasion, has a dream about Frigga he fears will come to pass. (to help me deal with a certain rumor)
1. Chapter 1

_To cope with the rumors that Frigga will die in Thor 2. Oh no. Not the only character (besides Thor) who still loves Loki. Fix-it fic for a rumor? ... I'm not obsessed. Really._

* * *

Loki awoke, his customary control slipping as he jerked up. He drew in a sharp breath through the muzzle and his eyes darted around. His cell was silent. The prison was silent.

He swung his legs over to the edge of the bed—he would have grimaced in disgust if he had been able. It was a bare cot, no more than a stone table with a thin mattress that had more lumps than stuffing and a threadbare blanket.

Frigga had given him the blanket.

Loki tensed, his hands fisting into the edge of the mattress. _Frigga. _His mother. But no, she was not even that. He at least knew who his father was, but his true mother was a secret even he could not discover. He regretted killing Laufey now, if only for that. And because it hadn't gotten him what he wanted.

Loki stilled his body, noticing that he was beginning to shake with anger.

And fear.

He quenched a shiver before it could become apparent to those watching—if indeed they were. Was he not simply forgotten in this place?

_Mother has not forgotten me, _he thought, and wondered that he still thought of the wife of Odin as mother. But then she had not been like the rest. To Odin he had been a pawn, to her he had simply been her son. She had not been lying about that, the silvertongue knew. The knowledge twisted inside him, a remnant of the sentimentality that he despised.

It was this sentimentality, this _affection _for the queen of Asgard that was weakening him. He held up his hands and they were shaking. With fear and anger and trepidation over a dream.

A _dream._

Loki knotted his hands into fists, bringing them back into his lap. Then he knew he was about to begin shaking again and he stood abruptly, beginning to pace around the room.

Cell.

He was in prison.

Powerless.

Speechless.

He knew no one would believe him, for he did not believe himself. He was not one of the seers or soothsayers, the dominion of dreams was not his. They were simple nightmares, ones he should have grown out of long ago, certainly after he discovered his true parentage.

Or fathering.

He spun on his heel and paced to the other end of the room.

He'd never even found out who his true mother was. He hadn't wanted to. He'd still been a boy in so many ways, and yet growing up so fast. He'd lost everything he thought he'd had, he didn't want to lose his mother as well.

Loki stopped in the center of the room, mid-stride.

His mother.

He reviewed every word she had ever spoken and he knew that she, at least, regarded herself as his mother. Even now, after all he had done. It was a motherly disappointment that shone out of her eyes, a motherly love that had ordered the guards to bring him a blanket last night, a motherly intuition that made her whisper that she had always worried for Thor, that he would grow to love battle too much, and that he should look after his brother because of the two he was the more levelheaded, and a mother who had asked him how she had gone wrong, that he had become this.

Loki slowly tightened his fists, before he noticed. He swallowed, wishing he could work the loose muscles in his jaw. He wished he could tell her that he was sorry.

He realized then that he had never stopped being her son.

* * *

_So, what do you think? I've had this one in a Word document for a while, and thinking about it I don't think he'd still have the muzzle on, but...well maybe. Loki's hard. Truly, properly hard to write, and I blame the writers for not carving out a proper characterization because Chitauri do not make much sense. _

_So what I'm trying to say is this isn't necessarily canon, the characterization is off, but I have to put it somewhere because there are not enough Frigga and Loki stories. I'll try my best._


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note: I, unfortunately, am not familiar with the comics, this is movie-verse Loki (and Asgard and Thor etc), but I tried to add what I could find. I apologize to the comic fans for any mistakes I made._

* * *

Loki straightened. His shoulders drew back, straight and proud, his chin rose and he stood with his arms at his side.

He'd have to figure out, then, if his dreams meant anything. He closed his eyes and reviewed them.

_Elves swarmed over Asgard. Their bodies littered the streets, but outnumbering them were those of the Aesir. The dark elves shouted their triumph as they ravaged the city. He could sense how fundamentally wrong the scene was, and he knew that it was not over yet. He saw, as though he were flying, the street leading up to the palace. It was choked with the bodies of the defenders and the attackers._

_Curled on the stairs was a woman, with golden hair strewn across her face and obscuring her features. She clutched a sword in her hand and she was dressed for battle. Around her was a circle of dark elves, limbs bent awkwardly as though they had been thrown back by an explosion. There was a gaping hole in the woman's stomach, dripping with far too much red._

_He saw her closer up, as though he had flown beside her and was now kneeling beside her. He knew—in a distant part of his mind—what he would find, because he had found it a thousand times before in his nightmares and his thoughts in the day, but he reached for her anyway and gently brushed her hair away from her face._

_And he howled at the sky and the buildings shook and the very ground trembled as he screamed his outrage at the world, for there, lying dead on the steps of the palace, lay his mother Frigga._

Loki's eyes snapped open and he found himself swaying, just slightly. He stilled his limbs again—that was becoming an annoying trait for him, who controlled the minutest detail of an expression. His dream seemed real. It seemed plausible.

He curled up his lip—or he would have, had it not been for the muzzle—at the thought of the Aesir. They would not think it plausible. They would not think their city could be overrun, their armies defeated.

He knew better. He knew the thread of magic that thrummed in every elf's soul and he knew that it would only take a small dose of power for them to defeat Asgard.

Loki began pacing again, a steady pace that was carefully controlled. He thought again over his dream and realized what was wrong. Thor and Odin. For all their faults, they would not let Frigga be killed. But they were not in his dream at all. He could not see them, not hear them, not feel them.

He knew that, in his dream, the battle had not been over yet, but he also knew that the elves were winning. How? How could they match the might of Odin, recently filled with all of his full power?

_Perhaps Odin was not there._

The thought came, and the more Loki thought about it the more it seemed to fit. Something had to have drawn Odin away. Perhaps one of the other realms were in trouble, or, more likely considering the particular tone of triumph in the elves' voices, he had been lured away.

It would explain why the Asgardian forces were so little and so ill prepared.

But then where was Thor? If Odin had gone to another realm, thinking he was aiding another kingdom in battle, then would he have taken Thor? Could they have thought their realm impervious to attack?

Loki remembered his dream and recalled that Frigga had been dressed in armor and she bore her sword. Odin was not the only protector of the realm, and Sif was not the only maiden warrior.

Loki stopped in his pacing. Where was Sif? The Warriors Three? Surely they would have been with Frigga in the last stand—he could tell from where the Aesir's bodies were piled up that they had retreated behind the gates to defend the palace with their last breath. They were not there.

What could have drawn Odin, Thor, Sif, and the Warriors Three away from Asgard?

They were not the realm's only protectors, but two at least were its most formidable. Loki reached to rub his chin in thought and was stopped by the muzzle. He gave a small, nearly imperceptible, growl of annoyance. But he had more important things to worry about. He realized that Sif and the Warriors Three were Thor's friends.

And that Thor had spoken often of Jane, that woman down on Midgard.

Was it inconceivable that, in this (perceived) time of peace, he had taken his four best friends to Earth to reunite with his beloved Midgardian?

Loki tensed his fists. That would leave Odin and Frigga in Asgard. If an ambassador had come with news of an attack on their realm, he would have seen no reason to tell his son, and would have simply left, with the care of Asgard in the hands of his wife the queen.

And that fit perfectly with a certain enemy, one he'd once struck a bargain with-

Loki whirled and lunged at the bars (that they thought were) keeping him inside his prison. He pounded on them, wishing they hadn't kept his muzzle on. Then again, they knew him well and he was not called the Liesmith for nothing.

A guard came into view. "What are you doing?" he asked suspiciously.

Loki gestured to his muzzle impatiently.

"I am under orders not to remove the mask," the guard said tonelessly. "You will not receive any special treatment from me, Loki Silvertongue." He turned and walked leisurely back to his post.

Loki would have screamed in frustration had he been able to. He was grateful they couldn't see the ridiculous, sentiment-filled expression he wore.

He stopped. Heimdall. Where had Heimdall been?

_Neutralized, obviously. He would have gotten rid of the largest threat first. _Loki gripped the bars tightly, willing himself to think of a way out of this. Somehow, he had been shown a vision of the future.

Now all he had to do was stop it from happening.


	3. Chapter 3

Loki sat cross-legged on his bed, eyes closed and fingers pressed together in front of him. He breathed.

He heard loud footsteps and his eyes shot open. He would recognize the sound of his brother—there he went again, still referring to him as his brother—anywhere. He calculated the humiliation of appearing weak with his need for Odinson to understand his urgency and lunged to his feet and at the bars, craning his neck to see—there!

Thor strode towards him, red cape billowing behind. His eyes simultaneously lit up and darkened at the sight of Loki.

"How are you faring, brother?" he asked.

Loki strained at the bars, eyes frantic. How could he get his point across? He pulled at the muzzle and looked imploringly at Thor.

The god of thunder shook his head. "It is Father's order that you not be released until such time as he sees fit. It pains me, but I must follow his instructions. I have not for so long." Thor slightly deflated. "Though I wish we could speak again. I wish we could put all this behind us forever, but it seems that cannot be."

Loki dashed to his bed and grabbed his blanket, holding it up for Thor to see.

Thor frowned. "What ails you, brother? I know not what you mean by this."

Loki actually made a sound of frustration and the muzzle instantly reminded him of why he was being silent. He stiffened, tightening his hold on the blanket as a small shock of pain rippled through his body.

He shook his head to clear it and looked down at his hands. He blinked and unwound them from the fabric, then his eyes widened and he almost whimpered. He held up the thin blanket and saw that yes, he had tore a small hole in the fabric.

He folded it carefully and set it on the bed and remembered his bro—Odinson.

Thor was watching with a look of pity and compassion.

Loki stepped forward, gripping the bars again. He tried to communicate with his eyes what he meant.

Thor sighed. "I wish I did not have to leave you, but Jane is waiting for me."

Loki froze.

Thor continued, unaware of his expression. "I left her without even saying greeting her last time I was on Earth. I have much to speak with her about."

Loki shook his head, frantically.

Thor squinted at him. "What is it that troubles you?" He looked past him and into the cell. His face cleared. "Do you desire another blanket?"

Loki whirled away from him and scanned the room. He saw the floor, so very dusty, and threw himself at it. He angled himself so his brother-_Odinson-_could see and wrote in the dust, _Frigga._

Thor smiled. "I shall tell her you asked for her." He stepped back and began to turn.

Loki stared at him in horrified frustration. He leapt up and tapped on the bars.

Thor turned back.

Loki gestured to his eye and stood taller, then stood with a questioning glance. _What is the Allfather doing—is he going to leave for something—are my dreams coming true?_

Thor understood only a little. "You ask after Odin?"

Loki nodded.

"He and our mother talk about you frequently," Thor started.

Loki sighed. That wasn't what he meant. He ignored the voice that repeated _our mother our ours._

Thor suddenly broke off and looked behind him. "I must be going," he said finally. "We will leave soon."

Loki raised an eyebrow, hoping against hope that "we" didn't actually mean-

Thor grinned. "Volstagg refused to be left behind when I made this journey to Midgard, and Fandral and Hogun convinced Sif that we all should go together." He turned away. "I will do my best to keep them out of trouble, brother!" he called over his shoulder.

Loki stared at him. It couldn't be.

Thor stopped, then turned back. "I will miss you," he said softly, then he turned around a corner and was gone.

Loki grabbed the bars and jerked at them. They didn't move, only hummed with an angry buzz, reminding him that they would not take kindly to his breaking out. He turned around and closed his eyes. A vision of Frigga, lying with far too much red pooling around her body, flashed in his mind and he winced, opening his eyes.

He had to think. If this was all happening as he thought it would, he had to do something, and quickly. If he was right, Odin would be called away soon, and then the battle would begin.

_Battle, _he repeated disgustedly.

It looked to be a massacre. Not war, but sport.

Loki's hands clenched into fists again and his head thudded against the cold unmoving bars.

"What is wrong, my son?" a voice asked softly.

He whirled to see Frigga standing there, looking at him with a gentle look. He again pulled at his muzzle, hoping against hope she would—

"I am sorry, Loki, I cannot remove it." She sighed, stepping closer.

"My lady," a previously unseen guard interjected, stepping forward. "I do not advise such a short distance between you and this traitor."

Frigga turned on him, standing tall and imposing. "My son," she said firmly, "is not a traitor and I do not ask for your parenting advice."

Loki grinned beneath his mask. When he and Thor were little, it was Frigga they feared most. His grin slipped. Now it was Frigga he feared for most.

The guard bowed his head. "My apologies, my lady."

"Do not apologize to me when it is my son you have offended," she said, sounding still angry.

Loki glanced at her in surprise. Surely she knew that he would never—

"I apologize, Loki," the guard said, sounding as though he were speaking the words past a mountain of bread and potatoes.

Loki nodded, accepting the apology. Even though the world fell, Loki, god of mischief, would use his manners. Especially in front of his mother. It was strange to think of her as his mother again, but also slightly comforting.

Frigga nodded. "Thank you. You may leave now."

The guard left.

Frigga sighed. "I am sorry, Loki. They do not understand…you wished to see me?" she asked, changing the subject.

Loki hesitated, mind whirling, trying to think—he mimed writing.

Frigga smiled. "That you can do." She turned back to where the guard had gone. "Bring us paper and writing instruments!" she called.

In only a few minutes it was there. Loki reached through the bars to grab it, instantly beginning to write furiously. He was soon done, and he handed the note to his mother.

_I have dreamed that the dark elves will attack Asgard. It is likely that Odin will be called away, possibly on a diplomatic mission. I fear it will happen soon._

Frigga looked up. "Is it only a nightmare?" she asked gently.

He shook his head, grateful she had asked instead of telling him that it was just a nightmare. He wrote again. _It matters not. You must prepare._

"In your dream, who was their leader?"

_I could not see._

"How great were their numbers?"

_Very great. We were overrun. The streets were choked with the bodies of the Aesir and the elves._

"Why do you think Odin will be called away?"

_I could not see him. _Loki almost handed it to her, then added, _Nor Thor and his friends, thus I believe it will happen very soon._

Frigga read his note and looked up at him, concern and worry etched in her features. "I will take this matter to the king, and we will prepare."

Loki shook his head as he wrote, _Odin will not believe me._

Frigga smiled. "As you said, it matters not. We must prepare, regardless."

Loki flipped to a new page and wrote furiously. _He must stay here, no matter what happens. He must remain with you. _He frowned at the last sentence, wondering if she would think it odd but he handed it over anyway.

She read it and frowned. "Why is that?"

_You must be protected._

"What did you see of me?" she asked. Her eyes were wary.

Loki did not hesitate anymore than he had before, so as to not give her worry, but wrote, _You were in battle armor and you appeared to be alone. The future is unsettled, and this may change. Odin must not leave you._

Of course, that would likely mean that he and Frigga would both be killed in the same place. Loki scowled as his mother read his last note, but erased it before she could see.

Frigga looked up. "I will tell my husband immediately, though my protection is not a greater need than that of Asgard."

Loki shook his head determinedly.

She smiled. "You are still a prince, Loki. You know that what I say is true."

Loki grabbed the paper and wrote before he could change his mind, _I am a son first and your protection is a far greater need than that of Asgard._

He watched as she read it. Her eyes softened and she looked up at him. "Loki," she whispered. "It is not always so easy for us. We are royalty. We make decisions that the rest of Asgard cannot."

Loki sighed, knowing he was defeated. _Protect yourself, then. Asgard needs its queen. You are doing the realm a favor by protecting yourself._

His mother smiled at him, giving a small laugh. "Loki, even in the printed word you manage to weave your spell about your words. You tell the truth, though it is only a portion."

Loki smiled at her, but it didn't quite reach his eyes so she didn't know. He gestured with his head, softly, for her to go about protecting the realm. Frigga was a queen and a mother, and she was the mother of the realm. There was a reason they called her the Allmother.

She smiled again and weaved her fingers through the bars. Loki hesitantly held them. "My son," she whispered. "You give me hope for yourself. I will speak for you to the Allfather." She rested her head against the bars, and Loki let his own head rest gently against hers. He savored this moment, when he was the son and she the mother and he could forget who he was, what he had done, and simply let himself believe that all was well. "I love you, Loki," she said softly.

Loki held her for a second longer, then relaxed and gestured for her to go again. She stood tall. "It may only be a nightmare," she said.

He shrugged.

She sighed and, clutching the papers he had written to her, strode out of the hallway. "Banish the darkness, and in the light rejoice," she said over her shoulder.

Loki tensed at the words, then relaxed. They were what she had always said when he had had a nightmare, when he was younger. He found, as with all other memories of his childhood, that the memory of her speaking the words was tainted with the cold feeling he had carried with him ever since he learned what he truly was.

But, as always, Frigga banished the dark and the cold and the memory was colored with more gold and warm sunbeams than the others had been.

* * *

_A/N: So, I think Thursdays sound good for updating, yeah? That way we get both of Frigga's sons in this. :)_

_And feel free to let me know what you think-I'm still not entirely sure about the characterization here._


	4. Chapter 4

It had been two days.

Two days, and he was growing restless, even more anxious than he had been when they first shut him up in here and he could nearly touch each wall at the same time but he couldn't use his magic and he couldn't do anything and he hated it.

At first he had thought that Odin was probably arguing with Frigga over whether or not to trust him. But then the minutes turned to hours and the hours turned to a day and he thought Odin had decided to ignore him. He'd tried to get the guard's attention to bring a message to the king but had failed.

He'd begun to worry then that the king had left already.

Another day passed and finally, finally, as he perched on his bed and listened, he heard what he had been waiting to hear: the tell-tale footsteps of the king.

He got up and crossed the small cell to hold the bars and wait there. Odin favored up close contact. He believed the more eager you appeared, the more eager you were. He didn't know that the most dangerous Loki had ever been was when he sat back and watched.

And there he was. Tall and gold and imposing, his staff—why had he brought his staff?—thrumming with power he could feel even with the boundaries that kept his magic sealed.

Odin looked firm, regal, and as though he wasn't quite sure what to make of his adopted—or was it stolen—"son". He gave him that look rather often, on those rare occasions he came down and talked to his wayward relic.

"Tell me your dream," the king said.

Loki raised his eyebrows. _Odin does all things for a reason, _he remembered someone saying. What reason could he possibly have for saying that? All this went through his mind in an instant, before he gave a small bounce of impatience and tapped the muzzle. He could pick apart the king's acts later. Right now all that mattered was—

Suddenly he was seized with a very powerful urge to know exactly where she was. It occurred to him that the attack could very well happen right now, with the king talking to him. The prison was easy to seal.

Odin lifted something and said, "Write what you saw." Paper.

Loki grabbed it and wrote, _Where is Frigga?_

Odin frowned. "Why does this matter now? We speak of the supposed future, not the present." Running through his words was an undercurrent of _I do not trust you, I will not tell you where she is, I believe this is some sort of trick._

Frigga had spoken with her husband. She had likely told him all that had happened, and convinced him to come talk to her son.

But she didn't know, because he hadn't told her, all that he had dreamed.

This, again, passed very quickly through his thoughts as he began to write, _I dreamed she died alone when they overran Asgard._

Odin read the note and drew himself up. "I assure you, such a thing could not happen. Our forces vastly outnumber the dark elves, and the Allmother is not so easily beaten.

Loki had begun writing as soon as he said the first sentence. _Whether it could happen or not is not the issue. She must be protected, no matter what._

"Why do you care what happens to the queen?" Odin asked.

Loki scowled at him for an instant, analyzing what would prompt him into the quickest but wisest course of action. He wrote, _She is my mother._

Odin frowned. "You claim us as your parents, then?"

And Loki was suddenly aware of just how great an advantage not being able to talk was. When he got into his games of manipulation, sometimes he got in too far and, as Agent Romanov had spectacularly proven, he was likely to blurt out the truth.

In this case, the truth that wanted to come out was, _No, I completely disown you as any sort of parent, but because she is the only one who was always supportive of me and the only mother I ever had, I choose her as my mother; she is the only valid option. _That would not help his case with Odin, who favored respect.

He shrugged in answer.

And he was glad of the muzzle again, because he was very nearly smiling. He didn't think the king would appreciate such a gesture.

But Odin didn't even notice. "You told the queen that I would be called away. How did you know this?"

Loki froze. "You have?" he started to ask, but muffled the words before the muzzle could punish him for speaking. He hurriedly scratched, _Have you?_

"I am not answering your questions, you are answering mine. How did you know this?" Perhaps he did have a valid point. Some would say his mind had a propensity to connect to darkness. If he had seen an army or the future, it may have come from the very sources who were trying to take Asgard. It didn't, but that wasn't even what he had asked. He had asked how he knew he would be called away.

Loki wrote as quickly as he could, _It explained why you were not with her, defending the citadel to your last breath. _He started to show the note to Odin, then finished his previous question. _Have you been called away?_

Odin frowned at the note. Again. But it was not confusion, as was his reaction to Loki's claim of Frigga as mother, but anger. "How am I to know this is not a trick of yours?"

Ah. Good point.

The god of mischief, as the mortals put it, could very well try to take Asgard while the king was away.

But he was not simply the god of mischief. He was, at least now, the son of Frigga. Why should Odin believe him? _Because it concerns my mother._

Odin seemed to relax, just barely. "I know not whether to believe you."

Loki reflexively tightened his hands into fists and the paper crumpled. He carefully relaxed and smoothed out the paper, tapping his most important question at the moment. _Have you been called away?_

The king paused. "The light elves' ambassador has asked I aid them in their battle with the dwarves."

_No. _Helheim take it, sometimes he hated always being right. He shook his head, urgently, trying to communicate his message of _Don't go don't do not go _without words.

"Why should I not go?"

Because the light elves were weak and the dwarves, when they chose it, could be trickier than he and they never forgot their grudges and he supposed to some of them the fact he was muzzled now would only remind them of the time they beat him.

He wrote none of this. It wouldn't matter even if he hadn't had the dream. The light elves were quick to pay debts, and this would be a large one.

But he wrote, as it was all that mattered at this moment, _There is a chance your wife could die._

"I cannot hold back from fighting because of a mere dream, Loki."

No. No he couldn't.

_At least send Thor to deter them from attacking while you are gone._

And then Odin said something which drove fear deep in his soul. "I cannot, the way Thor left is closed for a fortnight." The king blinked, perhaps wondering why he had given such information to someone he didn't trust.

Loki didn't notice. He breathed deeper, closer to hyperventilating than anything. His dream could not be coming true.

"How do you even know that your dream is real?" Odin demanded.

Loki thought, _Because the future is always in motion and when I fell, I fell through the cracks and the abyss of time and space and it bled into me and I can see it, I can see what will happen sometimes, not all the time. I know it is real because I am the Liesmith and one must know the truth to lie._

That last one he could use. He wrote it down.

Odin shook his head. "No, Loki." And he turned and strode away.

Loki did pull at the bars then, knowing it was useless but submitting, just this once, to a useless action for it's possible cathartic properties. _No, Loki. _The Allfather did not believe him, did not believe in him, had disapproved of him once again.

_What will it take for you to believe me? _He wanted to cry out. But he could not. Odin had gone.

_Odin was going._

He blinked. The enchantment that prevented him from reaching his magic would lessen. He would be able to break past it. He could get out. (Odd, that he thought of it as getting out and not escaping. Two weeks ago he would have wanted to escape. He had wanted that. But two weeks ago he had begun to dream.)

But breaking the bounds would take a great deal of energy.

Loki let go of the bars, strode to his bed and sat cross-legged upon it, pulling Frigga's blanket over his lap. He closed his eyes and focused on the barrier.

He felt a slight twinge, the barrier reminding him that it was power and he was not, and that it was strong, stronger than he. It was unmoving, unchanging. _Right now. _He searched, prodding at the barrier until he found where Odin's power connected to it.

He felt Odin begin to turn his thoughts inward and he withdrew, waiting.

Then he felt the unmistakable sensation of an army leaving, that feeling of air being pulled from the room. Odin had gone. _So soon? _It must have been his plan for quite some time, and he came to his once-son just before he left.

But his vigilance was gone now. Loki tested the barrier again and found where it was anchored in the Allfather's absence.

_The earth._

Loki sighed heavily. Not in defeat, of course not, more frustration than anything else. Odin, he thought, still wanted him to prove himself, so he had strengthened the boundary. It would be much harder to break the barrier now, much more painful.

_Perhaps I need not break it._

He nodded once, eyes still closed. Shadows and the tentative were his domain. If anyone could slip through, he could.

* * *

_A/N: And we're nearly there. Two more chapters to go! :)_


	5. Chapter 5

_So I think I should add here that part of this was at least partially inspired by Slazarfalcon's Truthfully, which is very good (but there is a lot of swearing...) and also probably a bit from Ordis' Drown. Both are very good. And if it seems familiar that's probably why, and I didn't want to steal their ideas totally._

_...and here we go._

* * *

Loki had not slept in three days. He had quietly and slowly threaded his will into the barrier, like gently dipping a hand into a murky stream. It would splash and raise a great disturbance if you slammed your hand into the stream, but if you simply slipped it in, turning your hand so the water flowed past it with hardly any resistance, it was quiet.

Already he could sense what was going on in the city, for as the barrier was attached to the earth he felt all the earth felt. He could tell when Frigga walked in the gardens and when the few remaining horses galloped in their fields and when the guard changed and when a child made mud pies and he waited and he listened for what he dreaded.

His eyes closed, he sat cross-legged on the bed and every now and then he would stroke Frigga's blanket. He could find her easily now, almost as easily as he could find Thor when he had his magic.

Then the earth trembled and shook and he felt his control slipping. His eyes jerked open and he listened with his physical ears.

They had come.

He shook his head once, then concentrated on the barrier. He'd like to get the muzzle off, but it only impeded his speech and he didn't need that at the moment. The barrier would take a great deal of his power, however.

He'd had three days to weaken it.

He'd found where the stream was broken up, where Odin's magic lacked the skill to seal it and here he slipped his will and his determination in, widening the weak spots and strengthening the thin walls.

He heard, distantly, a dark elf horn and focused on the wall. He felt, distantly, death and blood and battle and he focused on the wall.

There!

The wall cracked. He widened it and pushed through. He drew a gasping breath as his magic, part of it, surged inside him and he rolled his shoulders with the feeling. He used what magic he had to prod at the other barriers.

He felt the death grow closer and sensed the dark elves were winning, surprise and…and something, something dark giving them a tremendous advantage.

He began to panic. Desperation fueled him and he stabbed at the barriers, smashing them all to bits. One would fall and it would hurt but he would gain more of his magic and with the new power he would crush the next one until there were no more.

At last, at very last, Loki had his magic back.

He opened his eyes. Oh, he could see and hear and feel and taste the world and he hadn't known just how much he'd missed until now. But that could wait.

He felt the battle grow closer and he felt Frigga weakening and he knew she was casting spells.

That would be useless against them. They were dark elves, masters of spells.

Loki's mouth slowly lifted in a feral grin. He was the master of magic. He'd outgrown them all long ago. He found a quiet spot just outside the city and with a blink he teleported himself there.

It was just as he had seen. They were winning. And he was growing late. He found what had been fueling the elves, a strange object anchored in the ground and for a moment he wondered what he should do first.

If his dream continued to be correct, it would already be too late for Frigga.

_No._ He changed himself into a raven—the muzzle changed with him, annoyingly-and flew towards the palace. He looked down and saw what he had seen in his dreams countless times.

_Elves swarmed over Asgard. Their bodies littered the streets, but outnumbering them were those of the Aesir. The dark elves shouted their triumph as they ravaged the city. He could sense how fundamentally wrong the scene was, and he knew that it was not over yet. He saw, as though he were flying, the street leading up to the palace. It was choked with the bodies of the defenders and the attackers._

But this time he could sense the battle ahead of him and he sensed Frigga and he knew she wasn't, not yet—he grunted as his stomach clenched in pain and he felt his mother, his _mother_ realize she had been mortally wounded as he saw a throng of dark elves surrounding her and one stabbing her.

Loki's raven form shrieked (but the muzzle did not cause him pain this time) and the elves flew back, thudding into the streets in sick crunching sounds that he ignored. He saw what he had seen in his dream again.

_Curled on the stairs was a woman, with golden hair strewn across her face and obscuring her features. She clutched a sword in her hand and she was dressed for battle. Around her was a circle of dark elves, limbs bent awkwardly as though they had been thrown back by an explosion. There was a gaping hole in the woman's stomach, dripping with far too much red._

_He saw her closer up, as though he had flown beside her and was now kneeling beside her. He knew—in a distant part of his mind—what he would find, because he had found it a thousand times before in his nightmares and his thoughts in the day, but he reached for her anyway and gently brushed her hair away from her face._

_And he howled at the sky and the buildings shook and the very ground trembled as he screamed his outrage at the world, for there, lying dead on the steps of the palace, lay his mother Frigga._

Loki's rage found him the source of the dark elves' power and he smashed it utterly and entirely. They shrieked and began to burn but he was not satisfied and he scorched the sky and their vessels and their chariots and he drove them back.

And he knelt beside his mother—he was in his Aesir form now, as like her as possible—as the steps ran too red with blood that should have never been spilt.

_Blood._

Loki caught his breath and looked at his mother again. She was bleeding. Still bleeding. Her heart had only ceased beating a few moments before.

He bent over her and found the wound with his magic. He pushed his hand against the wound, softly but firmly and he _willed_ it, he _ordered_ it to get better. He wove her skin together again and he sensed that she was not dead, not yet, though she was close, so close.

He pulled magic from the elves—what few that remained—and from the air and the water and the life of everything around himself and he pushed it, _filled_ his mother with it. She gasped and jerked, but she wasn't healed. He felt her slipping away and that was unacceptable and he drew life from himself and poured it into her. He thought he felt something deep within him bend, or perhaps unbend, as he gave his own life for his mother's but he couldn't be sure.

Something gold and silver fell into view, clattering onto the steps by Frigga's hair. He frowned, for it had distracted him but he kept his attention focused on his mother.

"You will not die," he commanded, his mouth hoarse from lack of use and it was only then he realized the muzzle had fallen off, but he ignored it. He was focused at the world that dared to rob him of his mother, and he was focusing on her wound.

It healed and was broken and he healed it again. He pulled vitality from his magic, pouring everything he had into her and he felt himself fading.

But she was regaining her strength.

He allowed himself a smile as he fixed her, finally and completely and wholly.

Frigga opened her eyes and saw him, bent over and shaking from utter exhaustion but smiling at her. She smiled. "My son," she whispered.

"Mother," he whispered back, and everything fell dark.

* * *

_Can I just take a moment to thank everyone who's reviewed or followed or favorited? It is really nice, and also makes me actually do this on time. So next week will be the last chapter/epilogue thing. ;) Thank you all again!_


	6. Chapter 6

___Well, here we are. Last chapter. Thank you all for actually liking this; this has been one of the coolest things that's happened to me I think. ;) Here you go!_

* * *

___Darkness._

_Loneliness._

_Burning._

_A golden flash._

_Coolness._

_Comfort._

_Peace._

Loki came to slowly, managing to wake up without anyone noticing.

This turned out to be a rather good thing, as there were currently two people talking about him.

"I think he will awaken soon." That was Frigga, hopeful and optimistic. And sounding very alive and not dead which was good. She barely sounded worried, which he took to mean Asgard was in fine condition.

"Yes. He is strong." That was Odin, with what could only be called—though he could scarcely believe it—respect and admiration in his voice. There was a shifting across the blankets—_I have blankets now?—_and a slight pressure on his knee which he supposed was Frigga's hand being cradled by Odin's. "He did save you from what otherwise would have been certain death."

"You were not sure, however." The queen sounded slightly antagonistic.

The pressure withdrew. "No one could ever be completely sure. I was as sure as I could be." There was a pause. "I saw his dream," Odin said quietly.

Through a supreme effort of will, Loki kept his face from showing any emotion.

Frigga drew a breath. "You did?"

"Yes. And I felt what he was feeling." Odin paused again, and sounded confused when he continued. "The amount of rage he felt when he saw you lying there…I have not seen anything like that in ages. He could not have that much anger for someone he did not care about. I knew it was safe to leave you then."

_The staff, _Loki realized. _He used the staff to see my dream. But if he knew what I was feeling, why in Helheim would he leave the fate of Asgard to me? I would have burned it to the ground if she had died._

Frigga, bless her heart, still had a question. "What of the prison? The barriers keeping him there?"

"Barriers have never stopped my son." Odin sounded like he was smiling, perhaps ruefully, but smiling nonetheless.

_My son, _Loki repeated to himself. Was he really? Not just a stolen relic that had finally acquired a use?

"No, they have not," Frigga agreed. "I do not care so much for your leaving me, but the city? The people? How could you trust their safety to his breaking out of your prison?" She sounded indignant, and Loki had to fight back a grin. She was the Allmother, after all.

Odin shifted. "He'd tried once before, when he was first imprisoned, and I knew how he would do it. I attached the barrier to the earth and left some of my own power in the muzzle, which I would remove once he had proved himself worthy."

_That's why the muzzle fell off when I drew life from myself._

"But how could you know?" Frigga pressed.

"I know this as I know everything else that happens in Asgard." Then Odin sighed. "He is not completely absolved of all guilt, you know."

"I know. I am his mother, after all." She sounded resigned, and he could almost hear the words which had been spoken before: _I love you, and that is why I must do this._

"And I am his father."

Loki was fighting harder than he ever had before to keep a serene, sleeping expression. Odin had sounded very similar to the Allmother, and he had used the same words in the past.

Again Odin shifted positions and Loki suddenly knew he was being examined very closely. The Allfather drew a breath. "You are awake."

He opened his eyes. Oddly enough, he was struck with an urge to say _Yes, Father. _He wasn't quite sure why. Odin wasn't his father.

Frigga was smiling at him, her eyes twinkling. "How long have you been awake?"

"Not very long," he said, pushing himself up on the pillows. "How long have I been asleep?"

"Eight days," she said seriously.

Loki blinked. That wasn't quite so bad, for how much he had spent. But then this meant Thor was still in Midgard, and he had hoped to see him when he woke. Odin moved and his eyes instinctively darted over to him. The king's face was nearly unreadable; perhaps there was respect, confusion, and some other trace of something.

"You have proved yourself," Odin said. "But above that, you have saved the life of my queen and I thank you." Loki must have been imagining the hesitant, unsure expression on his face. "Asgard owes its safety to you, and we know that." He glanced at Frigga. "For this, you are released from your imprisonment here."

"You would loose me on the world?" Loki asked in disbelief.

"No," the king answered immediately. "But I would loose you from prison."

_Parole, the Midgardians call it, _Loki thought to himself. He kept himself from expressing his disgust for such a restriction. It was better than what he had.

He saw a bowl of water and a towel by the bed and frowned.

"You took in too much fire," the king answered his unspoken question. "It began to burn within you, while you were unconscious. It has only been a few days since that passed."

"You noticed?" Loki asked. They never had before, not even when he'd spent all his magic and could barely stand yet he had because he must.

Odin's face flickered with pain. "I do now, my son."

Frigga smiled at her husband, then hopefully at Loki. He stared at the king. Then he glanced at Frigga. He'd decided to call her mother, to treat her like his mother, because of how she had acted.

It didn't mean she was perfect.

He looked from Odin to Frigga and back again. "How can I be your son?" he asked, valiantly keeping the tremble out of his voice.

"I chose you long ago, and nothing will change that." Odin looked out the window. "You may do things that merit punishment, but you are still my son."

"Chose me," Loki repeated, so quietly he thought Odin might not have heard him.

He might not have, for he said thoughtfully, "And perhaps you chose me as well. As soon as I touched you, all those years ago in the ruined temple, your skin turned from the blue to mimic mine. You smiled," he remembered.

Loki closed his eyes and cast his thoughts back. He'd tried once before, when he discovered who he was, but he hadn't gotten far. The furthest back he could remember was lying in a little bed, staring at the ceiling which was painted with stars, and noticing that they glowed by themselves. He couldn't have been more than two, and he'd reached out to them and discovered he could make them shine brighter.

He remembered more now, details he'd missed in his replays of that memory.

_Odin rushed in, eyes eager. He smiled the biggest smile at little Loki, picking him up and cradling him in his arms. "You have magic," he whispered proudly. Frigga appeared in the doorway, breathing harder. She looked worried, but Odin turned to her, beaming. "My son has magic," he said. Loki gurgled and smiled up at him. He thought dimly yet brightly as children do that he was like his father, whom he'd seen making the torches brighter once._

Loki gasped and his eyes flew open and found Odin. "Father," he breathed.

Odin's eyes widened in surprise. A small smile turned his mouth up. "Yes, my son." He reached out and clasped his son's arm, somewhat awkwardly if truth be told.

Frigga smiled again, reaching forward and enveloping him in one of the most…complete embraces he'd ever felt.

And Loki closed his eyes and drank in the atmosphere of comfort, of safety, of security.

Of his family.

* * *

_And about three days ago this decided it wanted a sequel, a rather cliché sequel wherein Loki goes to Midgard and works as a servant for the Avengers to learn humility or some such thing because as much as I want a fluffy happy ending he did do something bad and he does need to be punished for it so...I was really not sure how to do that. If you'd like to see something like that, send me a PM!_

_And thank you all again for reviewing, favorite-ing, following-thank you._


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